Sermon for Feast of St. Michael and All Angels: "God's Holy Messengers"

 + Feast of St. Michael and All Angels – September 29^th, 2024 +

Daniel 10:10-14; 12:1-3; Revelation 12:7-12; Luke 10:17-20

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

Our daily lives are full of messages. Phone calls, texts, emails, a card in the mail, carrier pigeons…ok maybe not pigeons. Whatever the means, behind every message is a messenger. Text messages rely on circuits, chips, and signals so we can text our friend sitting next to us. Those Amazon packages don’t just magically appear on our doorstep. Where there’s a message, there’s a messenger.

 

And that’s what, or rather who, we rejoice with, remember, and give thanks to God for today. His ministering spirits. His messengers. His holy angels. 

 

Today the church celebrates the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels. It’s a reminder that we live in a world that’s bigger than we are. Creation is more than meets the eye. God is Maker of all things visible and invisible, as we confess in the Creed. God’s angels are his servants; they dwell in eternal light, incorporeal, spiritual beings, yet creaturely, easily moving between heaven and earth. 

 

Though there’s a myriad of angels – an angelic host in Scripture, God’s word only names two - Michael the warrior, the protector of Israel, and Gabriel the herald, the preacher of the Incarnation. There’re the mysterious seraphim, six-winged fire angels who flutter around the throne of God singing an eternal “Holy, holy, holy” to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. There’re also the cherubim and the throngs of heavenly creatures, beyond our comprehension, yet united with us in worship. 

 

Scripture also teaches us that God’s holy angels aren’t the cute, cuddly little cherubs of Hallmark Christmas cards. There’s a reason the first words they speak are, “Fear not!” They’re God’s Spiritual Warriors. God’s angelic, army host standing watch over God’s baptized children.

 

This is good news for us. We need his guardian angels. For God’s holy angels aren’t the only angels that exist. There’re fallen angels too. They rebelled against God, and their warfare against us is ceaseless, like the sirens beckoning Ulysses to join their sedition. 

 

It’s not a war of flesh and blood, Paul says. Satan’s weapon is his word. He deceives. He accuses. He leads astray. We know this. We fall into his deception. We’re prideful and lust after power as he did. And the worst part about his accusations against us is that it’s all true. We are guilty of all the sins against God that Satan throws in our face. 

 

And yet, this is where the devil deceives even himself. His greatest lie is exposed. For our sins no longer belong to us. Jesus has taken them away. Every accusation and temptation was answered for and overcome by Christ’s death for us. Every sinful thought, word, and deed, all that we’ve done and left undone was placed it into his pierced hands, under his feet that crushed the devil, and upon his head crowned with thorns for us. Jesus received the guilty verdict we deserved. Jesus fought for us on the cross and won. By his dying he has destroyed death. Conquered Satan. And by His resurrection he has broken the power of the grave. Satan’s accusations are now as empty as Jesus’ tomb. 

 

St. John tells us about this cosmic rebellion led by Satan. And along with his rebellion, all his accusations lie dead and buried in Jesus’ tomb. For you who in Christ there is no condemnation.

 

Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him. And I heard a loud voice in heaven, saying, “Now the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God and the authority of his Christ have come, for the accuser of our brother has been thrown down, who accuses them day and night before our God.

 

In Jesus Crucified, the war is over. “I saw Satan fall like lightning,” Jesus says. Sin, death, and the devil are thrown down. Defeated. Overcome. Conquered. Not by the strength of Michael and his angels. Not by our strength, will power, or resistance to temptation. But by the blood of the Lamb, who shed His blood on the Cross for you. Satan’s accusations against us are null and void. For the Blood of Jesus – given us in Baptism and the Supper - cleanses us from all sin. Jesus’ victory is yours. His death and life are yours. 

 

This is the message of God’s holy messengers: Christ crucified for you. They do not desire our worship. As Jesus says, their faces are ever turned toward God. That’s where they point us as well: to the Word made flesh for us. To Jesus the crucified and risen Son of God who though equal to the Father was made a little lower than the angels to rescue us by His death, whom the angels now adore with unending worship praise. 

 

Mysterious though they are, we know what’s most important about God’s holy angels. They’re heavenly heralds of Good News. Bless the Lord, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his word, obeying the voice of his word. That’s their job: messengers of God’s Word. 

 

God’s Word declared to Joseph, “She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” 

 

God’s Word announced to Mary, “Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.”

 

God’s Word sung to the Shepherds, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men.”

 

God’s Word proclaimed to the women at the tomb on Easter Sunday: “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus the crucified One. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay.” 

 

Today our Lord arms us with the same weapon he issues to his heavenly army of angels, His holy Word. The Word that fills our ears, eyes, hearts, minds, and mouths with Jesus forgiveness.

Today Jesus calls us to be fellow messengers with the 72 disciples and his holy angels; he sends us out into our daily vocations in life as he did the angels to the shepherds, to share the Good News of “Christ Crucified for you”, to the least, the lonely, and the lost. Behind every message is messenger. 

 

Today we thank and praise our Lord for his messengers, and all the more for his message of Good News, that sin, death, and the devil are conquered by the blood of the Lamb and our names are written in heaven, where the angels seek his continually face and sing his praise. 

 

On this day of St. Michael and All Angels, as we do every Sunday, we worship with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, praising our Lord who gathers heaven and earth for the marriage supper of the Lamb who was slain, yet lives for you and sends his angels to guard you in all your ways.

 

A blessed Feast of St. Michael and All Angels to each of you…

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon for Pentecost 18: "Greatness in Weakness"

 + 18^th Sunday after Pentecost – September 22^nd, 2024 +

Series B: Jeremiah 11:18-20; James 3:13-4:10; Mark 9:30-37

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

 

J.R.R. Tolkien – author of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings…and a Christian too – once said that the great policies of the world history, “the wheels of the world”, are often turned not by the Lords and Governors…but by the seemingly unknown and weak. 

 

This is quite often the case in his stories – and others like it. It’s not the powerful wizards or dark lords that rule the world and win the day – though it appears they might for a short time – but it’s humble hobbits from the Shire – or little Lucy in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, that are the real heroes of the story, for their greatness is seen in littleness, weakness, and lowliness.

 

And what’s often true in some of the great stories, is abundantly true in the greatest – and true – story of all: the story of salvation in the Scriptures.

 

God has a habit of doing his great and gracious work in weakness, lowliness, and humility. He packages his great holiness and mercy in the humble and the littlest. He reveals his greatness in weakness.

 

God chose not the firstborn Esau, but the younger twin, Jacob to carry on his promised Seed. God chose – not Jacob’s firstborn Reuben, but Judah, the 4^th in line to be the lineage from which the Messiah would come. God chose the littlest town of the clans of Judah – Bethlehem – to be the birthplace of Jesus. And Jesus, well, God in the flesh follows the same pattern. Conceived in the womb of a Virgin. Born in a feeding trough. Born in lowliness, weakness, and humility to one day go to the cross and suffer in lowliness, weakness, and humility. 

 

Yes, God has a habit of doing his great and gracious work in weakness, lowliness, and humility. This is what he has been trying to teach to his disciples – and us as we read the Gospels. 

 

The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him. And when he is killed, after three days he will rise.” ³² But they did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him.

 

Perhaps they were silent because they all – especially Peter – remembered the last time Jesus said this seemingly crazy thing about suffering and dying – and he was told, “Get behind me Satan.” And yet, the disciples are slow learners sometimes. 

 

As they traveled the roads to Capernaum you can imagine their conversation turned into an argument: “Who got the closest to casting out that demon? Who was it who went with Jesus up on the mountain when he was glowing with glory? Who of us gave up the most to follow Jesus? Who’s gonna be Jesus’ right hand guy?” And on it probably went. Until Jesus asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” ³⁴ But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. 

 

It’s hard not to laugh a little at the disciples’ foolishness and arrogance. It’s easy to see their pride and selfishness and their sinful delusions of grandeur. Why is that? Because we’re just like them. The disciples are our doppelgängers. When we read and hear stories like these – with their foolishness, selfishness, and pride on display – we wind up looking at ourselves in the mirror. Their pride and sin reveals our own. Deep down (and often not so deep down) our old Adam – our sinful flesh – reveals that we’re like that one kid on the playground always yelling out, “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” “Last one to the door is a rotten egg.” 

 

This is greatness in the kingdoms of this world: Being first. Being on top. Being strong. Being great.

 

Greatness in the kingdom of God looks far different however. In fact it’s the opposite. Jesus has a far different (and better) plan. God’s ways – thankfully – are not our ways. Not power but weakness. Not glory but a cross. Not the greatness of winning but the greatness of losing, losing one’s life in order to gain it, losing it all in order to gain it all, laying down His life as our ransom from Sin and Death. There’s no ranking in God’s kingdom when standing before the King, there’s only his declared righteousness revealed and made perfect in weakness.

 

True greatness, Jesus is teaching us, isn’t found in our greatness, in our humility, or our anything of ours at all. Greatness is found in Jesus who though he was the greatest, yet for our sakes became the last. Greatness came to us in the weakness of a child born of a Virgin in a manger in Bethlehem, and in the humility of the Suffering Servant on the cross. Greatness comes to us ordinary bread, wine, water, and words that do as Jesus declares: give the greatest gift of all: forgiveness, life, and salvation. 

 

Remember, God has a habit of doing his great and gracious work in weakness, lowliness, and humility. “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” 

 

To illustrate this, Jesus picks up a little child, plops him down in front of the disciples and says, look guys. You want something truly exceptional? You want to be first? You want greatness? Take a good look. Here’s what greatness looks like.  

 

For the disciples, this would’ve been shocking. In Jesus’ day, children weren’t cherished the way they often are in our day. Children were weak and worthless until they could come of age and work or be married. They had no status, no standing and were about as low as slaves, maybe even lower.

 

This, Jesus says, is greatness. Someone who’s utterly dependent, no self-importance, no status, no greatness, nothing but humility and lowliness, and weakness. That may not sound like greatness in the kingdoms of this world, but this is greatness in the kingdom of God.

 

In God’s kingdom, weakness is greatness, his cross is glory. God works his great and gracious salvation in humble, lowly ways. God became man – a child in our midst – that through him, through his suffering and death – we might become children of God. Greatness is seen in Jesus the man of sorrows and the cross. In the Servant of all who gives his life for as a ransom for his enemies.  

 

God also works his great love and good works through the ordinary, daily service you perform in your vocations – as you teach, care for patients, deal with clients, watch grandkids, pack lunches for your own kids, or all the little, seemingly lowly and ordinary things you do – Christ the Servant of all is there as you serve others. 

 

This is how God loves to work – here in his church, at his table, in his word, and in your lives as well. God takes his great and gracious work, wraps it all in weakness, lowliness, and humility – and through it all he blesses you and receives you as his own dear child. 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon for Pentecost 17: "Help My Unbelief"

 + 17^th Sunday after Pentecost – September 15^th, 2024 +

Series B: Isaiah 50:4-10; James 3:1-12; Mark 9:14-29

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Lord, I believe, help my unbelief. For many this doesn’t sound like a great cry of deep faith, but it is. This is what faith sounds like – not like Captain America or the Hulk kind of faith. But lowly, weak, having nothing in my hands to bring kind of faith. A smoldering wick. A bruised reed. A strange brew of belief and unbelief all at once. 

 

And here we see one of the Bible’s great strengths – and something that reveals its credibility and authenticity; time and time again the faults, foibles, and failures of God’s people aren’t covered up. Just the opposite – the bible airs their dirty laundry out for all of history to see. Like most people, if we’re given the chance to tell the story of our lives, would probably leave out the major mess-ups and cover up our weaknesses – play to our strengths, and so on. 

 

Not the story of the Bible. The biblical authors don’t cover up for God’s people. Everything – the good, the bad, and the ugly – is all on display. Paul had his thorn in the flesh. Peter denied Jesus. David was an adulterer and murderer. And the list goes on.

 

Indeed, one of Scripture’s great strengths is that it reveals not the strength of our faith – but our weakness. Why is that a strength? It doesn’t sound like one. But it is. For in our weakness we realize that any strength we have is from Christ. And Christ Jesus is the savior the weak, the lost, the lowly – the sinner. You and me. And all who cry out…

 

Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.

  

Those are the famous words spoken by this unnamed man in Mark 9. Jesus comes down from the mountain of transfiguration with Peter, James, and John, only to find confusion and chaos. The scribes and crowds arguing with Jesus’ disciples. 

 

This man’s son was possessed by a demon. He had even asked some of Jesus’ disciples but they were unable to cast it out. Jesus’ answer seems a little harsh. “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.” 

 

To whom is Jesus speaking? Who’s the faithless generation? Is it the scribes? The crowds? The father? Even his own disciples? In reality, it’s probably the whole lot of them. 

 

As Jesus often does in his teaching and conversation he pushes people to confess their faith, to reveal where their hope and trust is found. Is it in him, or in themselves? What about us? Where is our faith anchored? This also may be why the disciples were unable to cast out this particular demon. Perhaps after casting out demons in Jesus’ name they began to trust in themselves rather than Christ. In any event, Jesus presses on. 

 

“How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” 

 

You can hear the father’s desperation. If you can. He doesn’t come to Jesus as a superhero or a mighty warrior. No. He comes to Jesus hopeless, helpless, and weak. This unclean spirit is too strong. He’s too weak. He can’t help is his son. And he’s not sure Jesus can help either. 

 

So Jesus gives him a bit of a tough love response. Jesus brings the man face to face with his own faith – which is failing – so that he looks not to himself for help, but so that he comes face to face with Jesus who succeeds. And more than that. Gives what this man lacks. And needs. 

 

 “‘If you can? If you’re able?  All things are possible for one who believes.” 

 

To which the man replies with one of the greatest confessions of faith. Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.

 

You can’t say it any better than this. He is simultaneously believer and unbeliever. This is how faith sounds – I believe Lord, and only you, the author of my faith, can deal with my unbelief.

 

The father believes, but he does not believe. He tries, but he has given up trying. He holds on, but he also lets go. So, he confesses to Jesus, “I believe; help my unbelief” (9:24). 

 

With those words, this father brings all our weakness and stumbling, all of our doubting, despair, and grumbling, hopelessness and helplessness, all our fears and failures, and sets it before Jesus... and Jesus, when face-to-face with our ugliness, brings us face-to-face with His grace.

 

Jesus doesn’t let go. He doesn’t give up. He doesn’t leave us to wallow in our weakness. Or drift off in despair and doubt. 

 

Jesus came, bearing our own weakness, to save us in our weakness. He came in lowliness to save us who are brought low. Jesus holds on to people who are letting go. 

 

Jesus did not come to save the strong, but the weak; he came not for the righteous, but for sinners like this father, like you and me. A bruised reed, He will not break. A smoldering wick, He will not snuff out. A weak faith, He will not deny. Jesus has come to die for all people; those who are strong in faith and those who are weak in faith and those who have no faith at all. When Jesus died on the cross, He died for the sin of unbelief so that, when He rises, He brings forgiveness to all. 

 

This story reveals something marvelous about Jesus. Jesus holds on to people even as they are letting go. Faith isn’t about how tightly you hold on to Jesus but rather how tightly He holds on to you. And, as Jesus tells His disciples in John, all the Father gives Him He will save. No one will be able to snatch you out of His hand. 

 

So the next time you find yourself feeling lost and hopeless and helpless like the father in Mark 9, remember the words -  Lord, I believe, help my unbelief; pray that prayer knowing that who answered that man and gave him the faith he lacked is the same one who hears, answers, and rescues you and gives you faith in him. And he’s not letting go. Not ever.

 

There’s a lot going on in this story. Jesus casts out the demon and heals a man’s son. But Jesus also heals the man’s unbelief and struggle to believe. And he brings you healing too. It’s also a story for days when our life and faith in Christ feel more like a teeter totter or a tug of war than a victory lap. And on those days, in those moments when we pray, Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. Know that he does and he will. Always. 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon for Pentecost 16: "Dogged Faith"

 + 16^th Sunday after Pentecost – September 8^th 2024 + 

Series B: Isaiah 45:4-7; James 2:1-10; Mark 7:24-37

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

If you were a first century Jew the last place you’d expect to find a woman of great faith in Israel’s Messiah would be in the region of Tyre and Sidon.

 

This was not a place known for its faithfulness to YHWH. This was Gentile territory – the rabbis even called them dogs – no place for a purebred Israelite to be hanging around – and yet Jesus goes there; Although he came first to the house of Israel, he also came to seek the lost, the loser, the outcast. Still, this Canaanite country – no place for a respectable Messiah to be hanging around. This was the home of wicked Queen Jezebel – the same Jezebel who had brutally killed YHWH’s prophets, worshipped pagan idols and introduced rampant idolatry into Israel, hunted and threatened the life of Elijah, and was devoured by dogs.

 

Never would you expect a woman of dogged faith in YHWH to come from Tyre and Sidon, and yet that’s exactly what happened. 

 

We don’t know how she heard, but the word had traveled all the same – a traveling Israelite teacher was in the area. And not just any old wandering rabbi. A healer. A miracle worker. An exorcist. The things he had done. The people he healed. Maybe there was some truth to what folks had called him…the Messiah. Besides all that, she was desperate. No one to turn to. No help to be found. He was her only hope to help her demon-possessed daughter. It was a long shot, but mama-bears in the first century were just as fierce and willing to do anything for their cubs as they are in our own day.

 

She heard of Jesus. She believed that somehow, someway, this man could do something for her daughter. So this unnamed unknown woman from Tyre and Sidon. This Gentile. Found Jesus. Fell at his feet – a posture of worship. She tossed aside any shred pride and pretense and presumption she might have had. She threw it all – laid all her chips down – and fell at the feet of Jesus. A beggar. 

 

And what was Jesus’ reply? We’d expect him to heal her daughter on the spot. Just say the word and it’s done. But that’s not what Jesus does. He says something rather shocking. Offensive even. 

 

“Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs.”

 

Now, some have tried to soften these words by saying,  you know, in the Greek that word means little dog – as if that’s better. Whether it’s the 21^st or the 1^st being called a dog is still being called a dog. Unlike today, dogs didn’t have a good reputation in Jesus’ day. It’s not supposed to be softened. It’s supposed to be shocking.

 

Jesus’ words fly in the face of any sense of entitlement we might have before him. As if God owes us anything, as if we deserved anything. Not at all. We’re no different from this woman – we’re all beggars before God. 

 

But what’s most shocking of all isn’t what Jesus says, but how this woman replies. She doesn’t get defensive. She doesn’t storm off in a rage. She doesn’t try and cancel Jesus for his insulting words.

She agrees with him.

 

“Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs.” 

 

No sooner had Jesus finished speaking than this woman nods her head and says, “I could not agree more.” “You’re right. I’m a Gentile dirty dog of a sinner.” So, give me what the dogs are given. Just a crumb. That’s all I need. She saw in Jesus someone who was greater than her sin. So do we. Yes, Lord, you’re right about me. It’s all true. I am a poor, miserable, mangy mutt of a sinner. I could not agree more. Only give me what you promised – a crumb of your mercy, a drop of your grace. I’m a dog and worse. And yet the Divine flee bath of Baptism washes all your sin away. 

 

Luther preached it this way: 

“What a superb and wonderful object lesson this is, therefore, to teach us what a mighty, powerful, all-availing thing faith is. Faith takes Christ captive in his word, when he’s angriest, and makes out of his cruel words a comforting inversion, as we see here. You say, the woman responds, that I am a dog. Let it be, I will gladly be a dog; now give me the consideration that you give a dog. Thus she catches Christ with his own words, and he is happy to be caught. Very well, she says, if I am a dog, I ask no more than a dog’s rights. I am not a child nor am I of Abraham’s seed, but you are a rich Lord and set a lavish table. Give your children the bread and a place at the table; I do not wish that. Let me, merely like a dog, pick up the crumbs under the table, allowing me that which the children don’t need or even miss, the crumbs, and I will be content therewith. So she catches Christ, the Lord, in his own words and with that wins not only the right of a dog, but also that of the children.

 

This is what God’s gift of faith does. Faith finds a foothold – a yes -  in Jesus’ words even when it appears that God is silent or says no. Faith clings to the words of God’s promise when the law shows us who we are before God. Faith clings to Jesus like a dogged and blessed beggar. 

 

That’s what that woman was. That’s what we are. 

A crumb was all she asked for. And yet, Jesus gave her more than that.

Only he gives her more than that. He feeds her more than crumbs…he sits her down at his table and gives her a whole table full of grace.

 

“For this statement you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter.”

Her daughter was healed, but so was she. And so are you.

 

Jesus gives us more than crumbs. In mercy, he took the punishment that we deserved. He became lower than the dogs, lowered all the way down from the cross into death, dying in our place, bearing our sin. Thrown into the jaws of death and the grave for us. And in his grace Jesus also gives us what we don’t deserve, but what he delights in giving you: a place at his table where he feeds you more than crumbs. He gives you his own flesh to eat. His very blood to drink. Here is healing. Grace. Mercy. and forgiveness. Here is the bread of life for beggars like you and me. Here is divine goodness for dogs like us. Here is a seat at the Master’s table where you are welcomed. Fed. Forgiven. 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sermon for Pentecost 15: "Christ the Cardiologist"

 + 15th Sunday after Pentecost – September 1st, 2024 +

Series B: Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-9; Ephesians 6:10-20; Mark 7:14-23

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

There’s an old story that back in the early 1900’s the London Times sent a letter out to well-known authors asking them to write an essay answering the question: “What’s wrong with the world today?”

 

Christian author G.K. Chesterton famously replied to the question, “What’s wrong with the world today?” with a single sentence…

 

“Dear Sir, I am.” 

Yours, G.K. Chesterton

 

Probably not the answer anyone expected. But he’s right. Sometimes we need a dose of brutal honesty. Everyone knows humanity has a problem, but few are willing to admit exactly what our problem is, much less say it out loud. We witness this ever political cycle – it’s always someone else’s fault. If we’re honest, we witness this in ourselves too. There’s always someone else to blame. Adam blamed Eve. Eve blamed the serpent. And on it goes.

 

The pharisees in Jesus’ day thought that they could fix this problem – our real problem, how do sinners stand before a holy and righteous God – by doing righteous things, by following their own traditions, and this week, by following God’s laws of ritual cleanliness. By seeking to be holy by their own thoughts, words, and deeds, and measuring against the thoughts, words, and deeds of others.

 

So Jesus delivers a little brutal honesty of his own. The unvarnished truth. No spin or political maneuvering here. Jesus tells us like it is:

 

“Hear me, all of you, and understand: ¹⁵ There is nothing outside a person that by going into him can defile him, but the things that come out of a person are what defile him.”^[

 

The word “defile” could also be translated “unclean”. It’s the language of the book of Leviticus. In the Scriptures, “Clean and unclean” aren’t about hygiene, but holiness. That’s what God wanted for and gave to his people. 

 

God led Israel out of Egypt. Formed them into a people. Gave them a law with rules and even a peculiar diet to follow to separate them from the rest of the nations. They were God’s Israel. Holy, consecrated, set apart for one purpose and only one purpose. To bring forth the Christ in the fulness of time. Now that Christ has come, the God’s Old Testament laws of clean and unclean have served their purpose. The one who is truly clean and holy has come in human flesh for us who were unclean and unholy. 

 

In the Old Testament, God provided Israel a way to be made clean: tabernacle, washings, sacrifice, food, and blood. It’s not all that different in the NT, only it is. God still provides the church – true Israel – with a way to be made clean. Only God doesn’t do it through a list of rules and laws; he does it himself. Christ who is holy came to take all our unholiness upon himself. Christ who is the only and truly undefiled one, takes on all the defilement of the Law. Christ who knew no sin became sin for us.

 

If the Pharisees were asked to answer the question, “what’s wrong with the world?” They would’ve answer something along the lines of, “Not enough of people (I’m looking at you!) are keeping God’s laws; they have to get to work and get busy keeping those commands…there are too many sinners out there who need to follow these 613 rules for righteousness and keep the whole Torah perfectly.” The problem is God doesn’t grade his Law on a curve; it’s a pass / fail. And we fail every single time. Our problem isn’t out there. It’s within. 

 

That’s what Jesus says. Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile him, ¹⁹ since it enters not his heart but his stomach, and is expelled?

 

It’s not what goes into our bodies that’s the problem. If that’s all it was – a change in habit, a new diet plan, a behavior adjustment – well, that’s not so bad we could do that and we certainly wouldn’t need a crucified and risen Savior to do all that. But no. Our problem goes much, much deeper. The line of good and evil, says Alexander Solzhenitsyn, isn’t out there somewhere, it passes not through states or classes, or political parties, but through every human heart.

 

For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery,²² coveting, wickedness deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. ²³ All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”

 

The heart of the matter is – as Jesus says – our sinful heart. The seat of our desire, will, and ways – our wanter. Sinful thoughts, words, and actions are bad, no doubt. But those are just symptoms of capital S - Sin. Our problem isn’t found in our head, hands, mouth, or stomach, but in our sinful, unclean hearts. And that also means that the answer isn’t found in our head, hands, mouth, stomach, or heart. And unlike the Pharisees thought, our solution isn’t found in the law, but in the One to whom all those laws pointed and prepared us for. To the One who came to fulfill every last jot and tittle of the Law on our behalf. To the only One who has a pure, undefiled heart.

 

If out of our heart comes all manner of evil, out of the heart of Jesus pours out all of God’s grace and favor and mercy and love. From the moment Jesus was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, in her womb his undefiled heart beat for us: a heart without envy, slander, pride, or foolishness. A heart that is always good, faithful, pure, and true and is turned towards you in love. What flows from Jesus’ heart is compassion, grace, and steadfast love. Jesus’ undefiled and holy heart pumps with new life for you

 

Jesus’ undefiled heart pounded in his chest as he was beaten, whipped, and scourged for you Jesus’ undefiled heart strained under the weight of the cross as he bore our guilt, shame, and sorrows for you. Jesus’ undefiled heart became still and stopped to put an end to all our unrighteousness. Jesus’ undefiled heart was pierced by a spear and bled out blood and water for you – to rescue you, cleanse you, and save you from all that is unholy and unclean. 

 

And then, three days later, the undefiled heart of Jesus began to beat again. The undefiled heart of Jesus echoed and filled the empty tomb with a thump and thud of resurrected life for you. As hard as the Roman soldiers pounded in the nails on Good Friday, Jesus’ undefiled heart pounded even harder and louder and stronger on Easter morning – to make you a new creation, to raise you from the dead, to give you a new heart. Christ crucified and risen is your great and gracious Cardiologist. He takes our old heart of stone and replaces it with a new heart of flesh. And by water and blood that flows from his side here to you at his font and his altar, in word, water, body and blood, he washes you, cleanses you, holies you, makes you alive by the Spirit, renews you, and creates in you a clean heart. Now and always. 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.